


i burn brighter when i'm with you

by goawayjb



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 16:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7470660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goawayjb/pseuds/goawayjb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU in which everyone has a mark on their body that is identical to that of another person's. It's their link to their soulmate, which anchors and shares their emotions until they are finally together. </p><p>Mark is convinced from a young age that he's going to be soulmate-less for life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i burn brighter when i'm with you

**Author's Note:**

> this is just something i threw together this afternoon because i have 2 other markson fics in the works that i just cannot get on with at the moment and i needed a break and to write something light so enjoy!

Mark first questions the mark on his wrist at the age of three. He notices it when he’s colouring; just on the inside of his right wrist a couple of inches down. It’s pale in colour; paler than the rest of his skin, and it feels different too. It doesn’t look particularly special, just a penny sized mark that looks kind of like an upside down tear drop if you really squint.

“That’s the mark of your soulmate, honey.” His mother tells him. Mark crumples his face in confusion and asks,

“What’s a soulmate?” His mother smiles fondly and simply explains,

“One day you’ll meet someone who makes you happier than anyone else in the entire world. You’ll want to be by that person’s side forever, and they will love you just as much. That person is your soulmate.” Mark doesn’t really understand, but he nods anyway and goes back to his colouring.

 

When Mark is seven, he’s more aware of the mark on his wrist after hearing his sisters talk about some people “never finding a soulmate.” He hasn’t really paid much attention to needing a soulmate, his mother always said it would happen when the time was right, but suddenly the prospect of never having one makes him irrationally afraid.

The next day at school, he sits on the bench of the playground surveying the rest of his grade with a frown. He’s sure that if he picks out the right person to be his soulmate, it will stop him from being _that_ kid who doesn’t ever get one. At that moment, Mark can’t think of anything worse.

In the end, he approaches Jenny from the class next door to his. He thinks she’s okay, so she’ll do. When Jenny tries to tell him that it’s _impossible_ because her mark is a lot bigger and clearly a different shape to his, Mark feels upset. What if he never finds anyone with the same one?

Mark returns home with a bandaid on his wrist and his mother immediately asks what he’d done. It almost breaks her heart for him to tell her that he “covered it up so that people don’t make fun of him for not having a soulmate.” His mother sighs, and coaxes him over so that she can gently peel the bandaid away from his mark and holds his wrist lightly.

“I was twenty three when I met your father. You have your whole life to find them. If you waste your time looking, you will look in the wrong place. You just have to be patient and wait for them to find you.” Her words seem to put Mark’s mind at ease eventually, and Mark doesn’t mention it again, nor does he try to cover it up with anymore bandaids.

 

At fifteen, Mark finds himself frustrated in that after years of supressing his irrational fear of _never finding a soulmate_ , Kyle in the grade above him has found his soulmate already. He’d convinced himself that most people wouldn’t find their soulmate until they were well into their twenties, and he was content with believing that so that didn’t feel quite so alone. But for someone in his own school to get one makes Mark unreasonably jealous. Kyle hadn’t even _wanted_ one. Mark heard him say so just last week that the whole idea was stupid and he’d be fine on his own.

What makes Mark even more frustrated, however, is that Kyle’s soulmate is a boy. A transfer student from Florida who had bumped into him on the soccer pitch causing both of them to recoil as their marks responded; tingling and burning in their respecting places on one another’s bodies.

After that had happened, it makes Mark think about his soulmate a lot. He’d always assumed his soulmate would be a girl, but he can’t help but wonder if he even _wants_ it to be a girl. He realises, after days of brooding and confused moping, that he’d actually be quite alright if his soulmate happened to be a boy. In fact, Mark might even go as far to say that he _almost_ hopes they would be. But still, Mark just knows he’ll be grateful for whomever they were, because they would be his.

 

It’s common knowledge that soulmates, once they become a little older, will begin to be able to sense change not only in themselves, but in that of their soulmates, too. As their bodies age, their souls become restless in a sense, due to being apart for so many years. Should two people get to this age without finding their soulmates (usually around eighteen but it’s not uncommon for late bloomers to wait until their twenties to experience this) they experience mood swings or uncharacteristic changes or surges in their emotions. The favoured theory behind this is that their souls are just tuning themselves in to one another and therefore being able to feel what their soulmate is feeling.

As Mark grows older, he becomes reasonably calmer and less afraid with who his soulmate might be and when he would meet them. Having begun _feeling_ through his soulmate at around eighteen, he realises this helps in just knowing they’re out there somewhere. University, so far, has been to him, and he had accepted his fate already, and is prepared to wait as long as it takes, because he knows that moment will be right. He isn’t ashamed of the upside down tear drop mark on his wrist, he wears it with pride, and he knows that one day it will signify something and someone so important his heart will swell every time he looks at it. He awaits that day with patience, but mostly excitement.

Age, Mark finds, comes with a growing understanding of what it means to have a soulmate, despite not even having met them yet. Its feeling happy in their happiness, and sharing the burden of their sadness, and the excited wonder of what’s made them feel so overjoyed of a sudden. The worst, part though, was when out of nowhere feeling complete and utter despair and you feel total and utter hopelessness with no way of finding out what’s wrong with them, no way to comfort them, and no way of doing anything of any use. You just wait for the feeling to pass, and hope that whatever it is, it passes for them, too.

Mark had heard many horror stories about the pain some people feel when their soulmate dies before they even have chance to meet them. Some people swear that your mark turns black, but Mark is positive that it’s just a myth, but he does his best to ignore such uncomfortable tales of heartbreak and despair and think only positively about his long wait ahead before he’ll finally meet whoever it was.

 

Something else that had taken some getting used to, was the prickling, almost burning tingling sensation he feels on his wrist in the proximity of his mark sometimes. It doesn’t happen too often, at least not to him, but it can be anything from a little fuzzy feeling in his wrist, or a warm glow to something that feels like he’s being branded by a red hot poker.

Mark remembers not so fondly the time he’d been taking an important end of year exam for his first year of University when his wrist had been positively _burning_ for a good fifteen minutes. Nothing he did could shake the uncomfortable and just plain painful sensation on his skin. It wouldn’t have been so bad, had Mark not been right handed, or if his mark was somewhere other than his wrist, but trying to fill in the questions when his wrist was on fire had proved rather difficult.

 

At aged 21, Mark is happy.

He throws himself down onto the grass, dropping his bag and heavy text books beside him and he lets out a long but contented sigh. Immediately reaching forward to try to take a handful of fries from the unsuspecting boy in front of him. His hand is slapped away, however, and he earns a warning glare from Jinyoung who pulls the fries out his reach. Mark does his best to pout, hoping to get his best friend to cave, since he hadn’t had enough time to get anything to eat since his lecture had run late.

“Nice try.” Jinyoung wags a finger and goes back to looking at the text book he has open on his lap. There were tables around, usually, but since the weather was so nice the past few weeks they’d been enjoying spending their lunch times and free periods out on the grass.

“Suit yourself.” Mark shrugs, waving cheerfully as he spots Youngjae wandering over to their spot in the grass. Youngjae instantly becomes Mark’s new favourite person when he tosses the older boy a brown paper bag from the University’s diner. “You are my hero.” Mark grins, delving into the burger immediately.

“You’re happy today.” Youngjae points out with an amused expression, passing Mark a can of soda, too. Mark shrugs again and flashes a smile.

“My soulmate must be having a good day, I guess.” It was true, he thinks his soulmate must be having a good day because even through his long and boring lecture on the biological make up of incurable diseases he felt particularly overjoyed.

Mark catches Jinyoung roll his eyes and ignores it. It does, though, knock the smile off of Mark’s face.

There was another thing Mark knew about soulmates. It seriously complicated any other kind of relationships and crushes and one sided loves. Who wanted to settle down with someone if they knew their marks didn’t match? What was the point in pursuing someone if you _knew_ one of you would one day find their true soulmate and leave? It all seemed pointless and messy and far too complicated for Mark’s mind to deal with.

It didn’t stop the complication from seeking him out, though.

Mark had known about Jinyoung’s _“thing_ ” for him for quite some time. He tried not to focus on it too much, since moving to Korea for University and knowing noone, Jinyoung had been a welcome breath of fresh air and a valued friend. He didn’t need, nor want, the complication of dealing with Jinyoung’s one sided crush, but it did make him feel sad for him, because they both knew he’d never return the feeling.

Still, wanting to be considerate, Mark pulled on the sleeves of his sweater which were bunched at his elbows, down so that they covered his wrists. The last thing he wanted was to wave his mark in front of Jinyoung’s face as a constant reminder that it differed drastically from the one he wore just below his collarbone. It didn’t look like much in particular, but it was painfully obvious it was not the same as Mark’s upside down tear drop.

Mark studies Jinyoung’s face a little longer, noting how he keeps reaching up to itch at where his mark is beneath his sweatshirt. Silently, Mark begins going over the times that Jinyoung had been extra touchy lately, and seemingly grumpy and unhappy about everything. Still, not wanting to push his luck, he ignores it for now and goes back to poking his nose into Youngjae’s business and asking what he’d been doing all morning.

The following week, Mark is unable to control his whirlwind of emotions. He just can’t seem to settle. No matter what he does he can’t focus on anything and his fidgeting is getting on everyone’s nerves. Something is wrong, and he can’t put his finger on what it is. With each new wave of unexpected emotion, Mark finds himself rubbing the mark on his wrist out of habit, chewing nervously down on his bottom lip and daring to hope that everything is okay.

Come Monday morning, Mark feels particularly exhausted. He’d suffered a particularly terrible night’s sleep, tossing and turning with no bout of slumber lasting more than an hour or two at most. Constantly jerking awake with waves of worry and concern rushing through him, he gives up at around five in the morning and drags himself out of bed to make coffee.

Having had so little sleep and already feeling on edge, Mark feels little to no obligation to make an effort in his appearance today. It’s enough of a miracle that he could even dress himself, what with all the wonder and concern he feels as his wrist begins to flare uncomfortably. He just can’t put his finger on why he feels so on edge. He tries to shake it to the best of his ability, making his way to his first lecture with his third cup of coffee in his hand.

Before he has chance to enter the classroom, in which his Introduction to Korean Literature is held in (as a transfer student he is required to take at least one Korean Language class each semester) his Lecturer catches him outside.

“Mark,” She ushers him over to where she is standing, juggling her own coffee and a pile of papers in her hands. “Just who I needed to see.” She beams with a look of exhaust on her face. Monday mornings are cruel to everyone, Mark knows this much. He forces a polite, expectant smile and waits for what she had to say. “We have a new transfer student, I had meant to contact you this weekend but things got on top of me.” She admits abashedly, still trying to steady the pile of unruly files on top of her arms.

Mark reaches out and takes her coffee so that she can catch her balance, and she smiles with appreciation. Once having gained her composure, she continues.

“I have his file here,” She gestures to the file on the very top of her mountain of work for Mark to take it. “He’s at the University Office, I thought you’d be the ideal student to show him around, since this was you two years ago.” There’s hope and even a pleading tone to her voice and Mark remembers how Jinyoung had been sent to collect him from the office when he’d arrived here two years prior. He takes the folder and smiles lightly.

“No problem.” Mark says with more enthusiasm than he actually has, but that’s mainly because he’s tired and had hoped to remain relatively antisocial today. But, he can tell his lecturer is running late and hopefully this will boost his grade for this semester by some strange form of extra credit, Korean Literature was not his strong point and he could use all the credit he could get his hands on without having to do any work. Showing some poor, terrified foreigner around wouldn’t hinder him too much. And by the looks of it, it got him out of a lecture for the morning, so there were no complaints.

Hoisting his bag further on his shoulder, Mark bustles into the main University building with little grace as he furrows his eyebrows together in discomfort and some unsettling feeling he can’t seem to shake. The more he tries to ignore the feeling, the more painfully it resonates within his entire being. He looks down at his wrist again and fails to resist the urge to scratch at the skin. It’s hot, and cold, and burning, and itching, and the skin is reddening around the mark where he’s been rubbing at it so incessantly.

As Mark throws his bony shoulder against the wooden frame of the door leading into the office, his head is bowed lower as his expression remains crumpled, his chest tightening and his head racing. His soulmate must be sick. It’s the first thought that pops into his head, as nothing else seems to explain the dizziness or the retched burning of his mark. Nothing seems right, and it unnerves him.

Mark looks up at the last moment before he walks almost directly into somebody else in the office, his chest bumping against their shoulder with a thud. He feels particularly winded and uncomfortable and he’s certain he’s breaking a sweat. His every limb feels heavy and slow and the entire room seems to stop and he is sure that if he were to speak his words would be slurred. He feels sick, and he reaches for the nearest surface but his now blurring vision causes his hand eye coordination to be a little off and he misses the desk by a meter, stumbling to his side with the elegance of a new born elephant.

“Hey, are you okay?” He thinks he hears the words but his ears are ringing, his heart won’t stop racing and his wrist… His wrist is on fire. He reaches up to try to rub his eyes but a hand is extended to him, someone reaches out to help him, a hand begins to clasp around his wrist and-

Mark instantly recoils.

His wrist _burns_. It’s almost like an electric shock- like when you rub your socks along a fluffy carpet and extend your hand to zap someone and give them a fright- only ten times more powerful. That feeling along with the sensation you might get if you pressed a hot coal to the skin. That sensation, coupled with the sudden awareness Mark has for his surroundings like he’d been smacked in the face with a sheet of ice.

His instinct is to cradle his tingling wrist in his hand and it startles him to find his feet and his balance like he hadn’t been close to completely collapsing just seconds before. The ringing in his ears subsides instantly and he blinks several times to try and gauge what just happened. Mark uncovers his wrist and feels his heart beat become irregular. His once pale, penny sized and upside down tear drop had darkened completely. It was more of a faded maroon or dark dusty pink than the washed out skin coloured shade it had been before. His heart was positively throwing itself against his ribcage now and overcome with emotion and shock and hope and fear he could barely bring himself to look up.

Mark watches in complete wonder and amazement as the boy, yes _boy_ , before him bunches up his t-shirt in one hand, the other running over the small, upside down tear drop stained a dark maroon on his lower stomach, just above his belt. Mark was staring. He had no shame, just complete bewilderment in trying to take in everything that was in front of him, his eyes desperately trying to drink up the sight of his _soulmate_ , who was still tentatively inspecting his mark. Just seeing _his_ mark on someone else, it did things to Mark’s chest. He couldn’t even see his face properly and Mark knew, he just _knew_ that he was perfect.

“You’re…” Mark began to stammer, “You’re,” He tried one more time, “You’re _you_.” The stranger looks up at Mark’s words, which had automatically come out in _English_ , and Mark feels the strongest wave of emotion he can ever recall feeling. It’s a completely absurd feeling, the same emotion coming from him _and_ his soulmate, all at the same time, overwhelming them both as they laid eyes on each other for the first time and Mark’s chest swelled so much he was sure it would burst with complete happiness.

“I’m me.” He stammered out in a shaky, also English, response, his eyes dropping to Mark’s hands where he cradled his right wrist still and Mark instantly held it out, showing off the identical mark and revelling in the reaction it drew.

He was perfect. That thought is at the forefront of Mark’s brain and refuses to budge.

His hair is platinum blonde and falls messily over his eyes from underneath a black snapback pulled backwards on his head. He’s a little shorter than Mark, but he doesn’t care. He’s stocky and far more muscular than he is, and if Mark can tell just that much through the baggy shirt and oversized jacket he’s wearing then he only dares wonder just what he’d look like without them. Mark is trying to memorise every single detail of his face- almost like he doesn’t have an entire lifetime ahead of him to do so. His eyes run hungrily along his jawline, over the plains of his beautifully sculptured face, stopping momentarily to take in his parted lips, slightly glossed over and pinched pink. But Mark’s everything stops when he allows himself to get lost in his eyes. His eyes are big, brown, soft and soulful. And staring directly back at Mark with longing, hope, and what Mark wants to believe is love.

It seems like forever, that they stay like that, just staring at one another, before the blonde boy- his _soulmate_ reaches a hand out nervously as if testing whether Mark will reject him. Mark tentatively reaches out with his right hand, taking the other boy’s and they both shake slightly with the next wave of delight and excitement that follows their hands touching.

“I’m Jackson.” He says quietly, almost shyly, childish smiles creeping over both their faces as they realise they had so much more to learn about one another.

“Mark.” Mark replies quietly, wondering over the way Jackson’s name sounded in his head.

“Mark.” Jackson repeats aloud, his smile cracking even wider as he hears it from his own lips, his hand rubbing soothing circles over the little upside down tear drop on Mark’s wrist.

“I have so much to ask you.” Mark says suddenly in a hushed whisper, almost as if speaking his words louder would prevent this from being real. Jackson lifts his head, his hands still holding onto Mark’s as if for dear life, and flashes Mark his beautiful, crooked grin.

“We have the rest of our lives.”

**Author's Note:**

> oigjiosfgjfs this wasn't supposed to end here i was going to continue it more but it seemed so perfect so i stopped here. but i feel like i'll probably write some other kind of epilogue-esque thing and maybe some jjp in the same au because i like this au its cute so yes? maybe?


End file.
